Mistress of Fate
by PrincessZula
Summary: A young Breton hero deals with the guilt of her deeds for the DB and her burgeoning crush on the Septim Heir. Hero/Martin, hints Hero/LuLu. Lemon scented.


A/N: This is Martin/Hero assuming the hero is breton and female ;). Hints of Lulu/hero

Warning: Spoilers for the Main Quest and for the DB Quest

Disclaimer: Oblivion, Lucian Lachance and Martin Septim belong to Bethesda... unfortunately... and I am only writing this for my own amusement.

* * *

_"I fear that we are losing you, my friend."_

Ariana thrust the Great Welkynd stone into his hand and turned away. She couldn't meet his eyes... they were too knowing. As if the young priest knew that she was moonlighting as an assassin for the Dark Brotherhood. And while she was not ashamed of that fact, she didn't want Martin to know.

"Tell me what I need to do."

Her eyes fell to the book that was opened on the table in front of Martin. The Mysterium Xarxes. It had an aura of malevolence around it, one darker and more terrifying than anything the Dark Brotherhood could conjure up. It had called to her seductively during the brief time that she had been in possession of it. Even now, she felt the stirrings of desire as she thought of the power contained within its pages. And yet, Martin was able to handle it with apparent ease.

Martin frowned and slowly closed the book in front of him.

"You covet something that could destroy you," he commented in his dark, rich voice.

Ariana's eyes snapped back to meet Martin's, her lips curled in a sneer. How dare he judge her, after all she had done for him? She had faced the nightmare realm of Mehrune's Dagon countless times for him. And in the Dagon Shrine, she had nearly died for him. He had no right; none at all.

And yet his words cut her to the quick.

"Don't assume that you know me that well," she replied, turning her head away once again.

For several long moments, the only sound to be heard in the Great Hall of Cloud Ruler Temple was the soft crackling of the fire. And then, the silence was broken by the closing of a book, followed by the push of a wooden chair across the old stone floor.

Ariana still did not meet his eyes. Not even when she felt his arms embrace her from behind, pulling her against a hard chest.

"I know that I do not want to see you surrender to the darkness that surrounds you," Martin said quietly, breathing the words softly into Ariana's short brown hair.

Ariana stilled; not daring to breathe. There had been a time when she would have given anything for him to hold her like this. There had been a time when her entire world revolved around Martin Septim. But not now. In the wake of his disinterest, she had been seduced by another... a man with dark hair and dark eyes who came to her in the middle of the night and invited her to join his family. A man she had killed for, time and time again. Her dear brother... her speaker... her lover.

Now, she was the servant of Sithis. A Breton assassin; efficient and deadly, and silent as the night.  
She couldn't bear Martin's touch anymore. She was unworthy. Impure.

She pulled herself away from the one who represented all that she had once wanted for herself and could no longer have. Her green eyes were cold as she turned to him.

"Just tell me what you need me to do."

* * *

The next time she found herself at Cloud Ruler Temple, she was no longer a Silencer, but the Listener herself. Yet reaching the coveted highest position in the Dark Brotherhood was cold comfort to Ariana. She would have happily remained Lucien's silencer for the duration of her days. She had never really belonged to Sithis and the Night Mother, but to the Speaker of the Black Hand, Lucien Lachance. His dark eyes and even tone had enchanted her from the very first time he came to her. Every kill she completed in the name of the Dark Brotherhood had been for him. She would have done anything for him.

Her mind kept replaying the image of her lover, his eyes gouged out and his skin flayed right off of his body. The torturous image wouldn't leave her, no matter what she did. It was her fault that he was dead; she hadn't been quick enough to clear his name. Now, it was one more stain on her soul. One more sin that she would have to live with.

As she entered the Great Hall, her tired eyes sought out Martin, hoping that for once, he wouldn't judge her.

But he was not to be found. The table that he usually sat at was empty, save for The Mysterium Xarxes. The gateway to Paradise. Her lips curled into a small smile as she approached the table and sat in Martin's usual chair. One hand lovingly caressed the book in front of her, while another retrieved the small bottle of Skooma she had lifted off of a thief in Bravil.

"To Paradise," She murmured aloud as she downed the vile liquid in one fluid gulp. The drug burned a path of fire right down her throat, bringing with it a carefree warmth and feeling of euphoria that she sorely needed. Afterwards, she hardly noticed the tears that fell onto the open book in front of her.

* * *

_"Get up."_

Ariana tried to ignore the hand on her shoulder. Her head ached terribly, and her heart was bleeding. She wanted desperately to return to the blissful oblivion of sleep.

And for a moment, it seemed as if Martin would leave her alone.

She did not expect for him to pull her out of the chair she was sitting in, and toss her over his shoulder like a sack of wheat. Her small fists, still covered in daedric gauntlets, beat heavily against his back in an attempt to get him to release her.

"What are you doing? You have no right to... put me down, dammit!"

The former priest of Akatosh appeared to take no notice of her protests as he carried her through the Temple and to his quarters, passing several Blades in the process who diplomatically averted their eyes. Ariana was sure to remember each and every one of them. They would pay dearly for bearing witness to such an atrocity.

"You need to clear your mind and your heart, my friend. The darkness has claimed you," Martin said, his voice soft and understanding. Ariana turned her face to look at him, and did not see the scorn she had been expecting. Instead, there was genuine concern in his deep blue eyes.

Ariana snorted.

"You care nothing for me. You care only for the loss of your servant. The 'hope of Cyrodiil'."

In the back of her mind, Ariana knew that such words against the Emperor could warrant her death. But at the moment, she really couldn't care. In fact, she would gladly welcome death.

She found herself dumped unceremoniously onto Martin's bed. He strode across the room and slid the door shut before turning back to her. This time, his bright blue eyes were lit with fury.

"Cyrodiil be damned!" Martin swore, settling on the bed next to her. He pulled her roughly against him, brushing his lips against her forehead. She buried her face in the crook of his neck. Ariana could feel the scratchy texture of his robes against her cheek. "Ariana... it was not for the sake of Cyrodiil that I left Kvatch."

Ariana felt her heart beating furiously in her chest. She had once wanted to hear those words from him very much, but like all things in her life, they were ill-timed. Still, she allowed herself to wrap her arms around him briefly, and hoped that he would ignore her tears as they fell onto his robes.

"It has been killing me, watching the darkness slowly engulf you. I should have said something the moment I noticed... I should never had let it get this far."

Her breathing was uneven and choked with great, heaving sobs against his chest as she let go of her grief and self-disgust. For a long while, Martin continued to hold her, whispering soothing words against her forehead and stroking her back in slow, even movements. She did not deserve his comfort; only his scorn, and with that thought in mind she reluctantly pulled away.

"You don't know what I've done... the horrible crimes that I've committed... they are unforgivable." She turned from him so that she did not have to meet his eyes. "People hail me as a champion... as the Hero of Kvatch... as the hope of Cyrodiil."

Ariana snorted loudly. "What a fine joke the gods are playing on them all!" She said, her voice thick with sarcasm and self-depreciation.

Martin took her hands into his own and waited for her to continue.

She offered him a brief, nervous smile.

"Never in my life have I been any such thing..."

Her words were stilled by Martin's finger against her lips. His blue eyes were piercing and his expression as serious as she had ever seen it.

"I was raised believing that I was the only son of a farmer, and yet the gods have deemed me fit to serve as Emperor. Fate is a tricky mistress, Ariana, and one that does not like to be denied," Martin murmured, pulling her once again into his arms. This time, she went without protest.

The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest was comforting; providing her with a strong feeling of security. She turned to look at him and saw that he was watching her expectantly.

Ariana took a deep breath and let it out.

"I arrived in Cyrodiil as a prisoner on a Dunmer slave ship originating from Morrowind."

Martin was slowly kneading her shoulders as she spoke, easing the tension right out of her.

"I managed to win freedom from my captors, and was at once arrested and thrown in jail for their deaths. I met your father while escaping from the Imperial Prison. He kept the other Blades from striking me down."

Ariana turned to look at him, meeting his intense blue eyes with her own.

"You know, if I had not owed my life to the Emporer, we would have never met. I never would have gone to Kvatch. Instead, I would have been working on finding the fastest ship back to High Rock."

She turned away again, staring absently at the door. .

"With the exception of my debt to your father, everything that I have done since I've been here has been to further my own ambitions."

Ariana sighed, dropping her hands into her lap.

"A few months ago, I met a man who promised riches and power if I'd only take care of a few contracts... For him, I have become a cold-blooded killer."

Martin nodded sagely to himself before responding.

"Ah, I see. It was the Dark Brotherhood for you, wasn't it?," Martin asked, not really seeking an answer. This was followed by a short, self-depreciating laugh. "And here I thought you had fallen into the service of one of the Daedra lords as I once did."

Ariana felt all the color drain from her face. She turned back to Martin, her expression a mask of disbelief. This man, this Priest of Akatosh... the Emperor even... in the service of one of the Daedra? She couldn't even imagine it!

"Your Highness? In the service of one of the Daedra?"

This time it was Martin who averted his eyes as he slowly nodded, his head hanging slightly in a mix of shame and regret.

"Who?" Ariana asked. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her, and her lips formed the question before she could stop it.

Martin's lips quirked in a small smile. He brushed a stray hair out of her eyes, allowing the back of his hand to brush her cheek and then her collarbone before drawing it back. His eyes darkened with a look that was unmistakable as they fell to the ample swell of her breasts. They paused there for a moment before leisurely continuing downwards in appreciation. When he eventually drew his gaze back to meet her own, Ariana's cheeks were red and burning.

"I was an acolyte of Sanguine, my dear."

Ariana sputtered..

_"Sanguine?"_ She repeated in a small voice. Sanguine was the Daedric Prince of hedonism and debauchery. Martin was a Priest of Akatosh! He had to be joking, although why he would joke about such a thing, she had no idea.

"You don't believe me?" Martin asked, an eyebrow rising in mock-offense.

"No... I mean yes... I mean... it's not that, I just can't picture you in such... uh... oh!"

Ariana's words trailed off at the first touch of his hot lips against her neck.

"Couldn't you?" Martin whispered between slow, torturous nips along the side of her jaw.

Unbidden, Ariana groaned, eliciting a low chuckle from Martin as he continued, the small sound reverberating against her skin.

"I was one of Sanguine's acolytes for many years." He paused briefly, taking the lower part of her earlobe in between his teeth. "And while I did many things in his service that I am not proud of..."

Ariana gasped, her arms reaching out for him of their own accord.

"My... _experiences_..." Martin's lips were tantalizingly close to her own as he spoke. She could feel his words against her skin. "...have made me what I am today. What matters, Ariana..."

He spoke her name directly against her lips. An unintelligible sound fell from Ariana's lips as she leaned in to meet his... but he drew back, and she couldn't suppress the small whine of protest that escaped her.

He chuckled lightly, before resuming his torturous kisses against the side of her face.

"What matters is not what has been..." One of his hands trailed over her thigh, and even though she was wearing enchanted robes, she could feel his touch through the fabric as if his hand was in direct contact with her skin. His warm breath was ghosting over the side of her face as he brought his lips tantalizingly close to hers once again.

"What matters..." He brushed a feather light kiss against her lips... "is what has yet..." His hand skimmed higher and higher up her thigh until it was resting almost directly against her center. Ariana shivered in anticipation, her own breathing sporadic. "...to come."

Martin pressed his whole hand against her sex, sending an electric torrent of need through her so intense that she whimpered. With an unintelligible sound born of anguish and lust, she melted into him, meeting his lips in a harsh kiss that left her feeling greedy and wanton.

He eagerly kissed her back, all pretense gone, his lips feeding on hers with a searing need. Slowly, his talented hands divested her of the gauntlets covering her own. The heavy daedric metal was hastily tossed onto the floor, and was soon followed by the glass helm that adorned her head.

She did not protest when he removed her sword and it's sheath, nor when he began to push her robes off of her shoulders, leaving them bare for his hot lips to explore.

"Martin..." She gasped, whimpering his name against his skin as she used her teeth to create slow hurts against the side of his neck. The bright red welts stood out starkly against Martin's fair skin, even after she whispered a small healing spell against them.

"Let me help you, Ariana." Martin's fingers caressed her bare shoulders before hooking once again into the fabric of her robes.

Ariana's own fingers were struggling with the ties on the insufferably concealing dark brown robes that Martin always wore. She wanted... no, she needed to see him.

"Let me help you put the past behind you..."

With a little coercion from Martin's talented hands, Ariana's robes fell to her waist, leaving her upper body bare. She managed to pull his robes down to his waist as well, but not with half as much finesse.

His eyes were dark, the blue almost eclipsed by the black of his pupils, as they took in the sight of her half naked and disheveled. Ariana felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment, and reflexively crossed her arms in front of her chest.

Gently, Martin uncrossed them, placing light kisses against the exposed skin as he did so.

"You are beautiful," he whispered as he tentatively caressed one of her breasts. He took one of her nipples into his mouth and she gasped, throwing her head back from the sensation. A low groan of pleasure fell from her lips.

With an eyebrow quirked in amusement, Martin silently withdrew, mumbling a silence spell under his breath.

Ariana blinked. Her cheeks burned bright red with embarrassment as she thought of the thin walls of Martin's room, so close to Jauffre's, and all of the curious stares of the Blades as Martin had carried her to his room, and decided that she really, really, _really_ had no desire to be overheard.

"Uh... thank you?"

The Septim heir chuckled before returning to his attention to her breasts, at which point Ariana decided that talk was overrated.

Groaning in frustration, she struggled to remove the rest of those maddening brown robes from his body, kicking them off the bed and onto the floor. He took far more care in removing her fine elven greaves and boots. When she was down to nothing but her undergarments, has hand hovered over them, trembling, and he placed a brief kiss against the soft cotton fabric before removing them. His own undergarments hastily followed.

Her eyes were hazy with desire as she looked at him, bared to her for the first time. His body was lean and finely muscled. A small line of soft, dark hair started just underneath his navel, and led all the way down to where his need for her was proudly jetting out amidst a patch of dark curls. Gently, she reached for him, pulled him into her hand. A strangled sound came from his lips as his own hands resumed their exploration of her body, fingertips trailing over her breasts, sides, the small of her back... when they brushed against the wet heat between her legs she gasped, curling one of her legs around him and pulling him against her.

He was hot and hard against her thigh as his fingers explored her, his tongue ruthlessly plundering her mouth, his free hand lavishing attention to her breasts, brushing against her distended nipples. She groaned and ran her nails down his back and laved open mouthed kisses against the soft skin of his neck. A thumb brushed against the small, hard bundle of nerves between her legs, sending a fierce bolt of heat through her.

Ariana whimpered, pressing her groin against his hand. Her tentative hold on his cock became firm as she stroked him, lightly brushing a fingertip over the very tip.

"Ungh," was his unintelligible response.

"I want to taste you," she whispered against his skin. With a burst of agility she had not thought that he possessed, he flipped their positions so that they were each facing each others groin. She took him in her mouth, swirling her tongue around the shaft as he thrust into the heat and wetness of her mouth. Meanwhile, she felt the tip of his tongue plying apart her folds, and delving inside of her.

"You taste divine," he mumbled against her sex, the vibrations from his voice causing something to curl up inside of her. When his tongue nimbly circled her nub, she stiffened; her mouth stilling around him and her breath catching as her the curl unfolded and her orgasm washed over her in a burst of heady pleasure.

He pulled himself out of her mouth and twisted so that he was on top of her, settling himself between her legs. He took himself in hand and rubbed the head of his erection against her soaked opening. Ariana whimpered and pushed back against him, eager to be penetrated by this man who she had desired for so very long. With one quick thrust he sheathed himself inside of her, both of them letting out a slow hiss of relief from the contact.

"By the Nine," he said, his voice strained, "you grip me tighter than any sheath." He ran his fingers through her silky dark hair as he writhed against her, pulsing hot inside of her. His thrusts came harder and faster as they coupled, and she raised her hips to meet him eagerly, wanting to take as much of him inside of her as possible. His lips burned a path down her neck and settled on her collarbone, his teeth gently worrying at the soft, sensitive skin.

"Mine," he mumbled possessively against her skin, lathing the small hurt he made there with his tongue. "You are mine."

"Yours," she agreed breathlessly. She began to babble, nonsense sounds combined with attempts at saying his name. His lips captured hers hard and his tongue plundered her mouth, mimicking the movement of himself inside of her. He grabbed her legs and hooked them over his shoulders, allowing him even deeper. His thrusts began to increase in speed and intensity, each one bringing a slowly growing tendril of pleasure. He was pounding into her fiercely, his rhythm faltering as they both sought release. She could feel it building inside of her, almost there, almost there, almost there...

Ariana screamed as her climax overtook her in a heady rush. She felt her walls pulsing around him, his slowing strokes prolonging the sensations. He jerked a little above her and gave one final thrust home, spilling himself in her quivering warmth, a loud breathless moan emanating from deep inside his chest.

The world came back in fragments, first the light, then the feeling of his breath in her hair, then his scent surrounding her. A lazy streak of sensation curled in her as he withdrew. He carefully gathered her to him, pulling a blanket over their cooling bodies.

"Mmm," she mumbled against his chest. "Why didn't we do this before?"

Martin chuckled, tightening his arms around her in a fierce hug.

"Perhaps because each time we've been alone together, we've been in mortal danger?"

"Oh. Yeah... that makes sense, I guess."

"It's too bad really... While we were travelling together, I had numerous fantasies of taking you against the wall of the shed at the Weynon Priory... might have too, if we hadn't been immediately ambushed."

"Wuh," Ariana mumbled sleepily, even now feeling a stir of arousal at his comment.

He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"So..." she began. She could almost feel the hitch in his breath, as if he already knew what her next question was going to be. "What now, Martin? What would you have me do now?"

"Nothing," he said in all seriousness. "It's too dangerous... I will send... someone else."

She bolted upright and stared at him incredulously.

"What? What do you mean?"

He closed his eyes as if pained and brought his hand to his head.  
"The next thing that I require... it's too dangerous, Ariana! I can't stand it anymore. Each time you leave, I know not if you'll return. It's killing me."

Her mouth opened and closed. She didn't know what to say to that. So she said nothing at all.

"Sleep," he said gently, pleadingly. "Sleep and we'll talk on the morrow." He brought her back down to him, curling against her protectively as he pressed his body against hers. His brought his arms around her like a vice before closing his eyes, and allowing sleep to overcome him.

* * *

In the very early morning, she gently extracted himself from his embrace, taking comfort in his steady breathing as she quietly dressed. With one last look at his sleeping form, she slid the door open and exited his room, hoping fervently that she wouldn't run into any of the other Blades.

When she reached the great room, she silently approached the table with all his books and notes, and casually rifled through them until she found what she was looking for.

"The blood of a God..."

"Sancre Tor," Jauffre said from behind her. She jumped a little, cursing herself for not noticing his approach. "The blood of Tiber Septim can be found on his armor in Sancre Tor." His eyes pierced hers knowingly. "I will tell him that you left before dawn."

"Thank you," Ariana whispered.

A part of her longed to stay. A part of her wanted to return to his embrace and never leave. But she was the Hero of Kvatch; the hope of Cyrodiil and she didn't have that luxury. She knew it, and she was fairly sure that Martin knew it too.

And as long as she was fate's mistress, she couldn't be his.


End file.
